


Ink Me Baby One More Time

by DeeliciousBaby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Has A Wing Kink, Fluffy Ending, Hangover!Dean, Humor at his dumbass self, Just a big wad of confusion, M/M, Oh snappies a tattoo, Possessive!Castiel, Who the fuck is Josh???, Wing Kink, mine, oh god now there's feelings, oh my god destiel is adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeeliciousBaby/pseuds/DeeliciousBaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its been many a year since he's done anything stupid drunk.<br/>And even longer since he's been black out drunk.<br/>If that's so, then where did the memory of last night go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Morning After

My first Supernatural fic. Don't own anybody or anything. Except for the tattoo idea and I'm totally going to draw it out eventually. SOOO...yeah. Enjoy.

\-----

 

The morning after a binge is terrible.

Horrible.

Don’t let anyone tell you any differently.

Ever.

And just when you think you’ve done it enough. That you’ve gotten used to the mornings after- you have one like this.

Dean likes to think he can hold his liquor.

Hell- he downs beer like normal people drink water.

Or breathe.

Yeah, he drinks A LOT.

But since purgatory, his drinking has diminished

Or at least, a little.

Alcohol tends to not have the same effect after you’ve been through the land of nothingness.

He sits up and yeah the world is sideways and then nope its right side up again.

Dear god how much did he drink??

Like I said, Dean likes to think he can hold his liquor very well.

Its been many a year since he's done anything stupid drunk.

And even longer since he's been blackout drunk.

If that's so, then where did the memory of last night go?

Dean groaned, his hands coming up to cover and possible squish his face. And a sharp hiss of pain left his lips. His back hurt. Well, not hurt persay, but it stung. Why did it sting?? Just what the hell did he do last night?

He rolled his shoulders, ignoring the ever present stinging, and stumbled his way to the motel bathroom.

Or he really hoped it was the bathroom.

If he ended up in the closet he would be pissed.

Door open (hell yes, the bathroom!), he stumbled in. And found the mirror. And blinked. 

Goddamn he looked like hell! Dark under eye circles, his slightly longer than normal hair sticking up in all directions, the faint smear of blood on his temple…

Just what the hell happened last night!?

He checked all over.

Arms? Check. Legs? Check. (Thank god he’s wearing sweats. And nothing else. He better have changed himself or he was going to KILL Sammy!) He wiggled his toes, checked his fingers and even opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue and checked his teeth. Okay, all good. Except for the horrendous morning after breath. God he's had some bad breath before but damn.

So without further adieu, he slathers on a generous helping of toothpaste onto his well-worn toothbrush (seriously, he really needs to pick up a new one next supply run) and goes to town on his mouth. He brushes his gums, his teeth, and its when he's doing the back and forth motion on his tongue that dean registers the stinging again. Like right in between his shoulder blades. It was a dull, achy throb. At first, it was logical to think maybe -just maybe- he fell asleep on a knife or something. Hey, honestly it wouldn't be the first time it happened. But he knows that sting. He’s felt that sting before. But he just can't put his finger on it. He spits, rinses, and turns to look at his bare back in the mirror.

And damn near shits himself.

He has a tattoo.

He got a fucking drunk tattoo.

What in the FUCK happened last night?!

His eyes traced over the newest addition to his body and he winced as he shifted his shoulders- trying to get a better look. Wings. Fucking wings rested on his shoulders, spanning slightly over the blades and down to the middle of his back. They were detailed- he could clearly see the different feathers. And they were shaded- ranging from black to grey with white highlights. Okay, as overdone as they were, the tattoo actually looked pretty good on him. But that wasn't what made him freeze. Oh no. It was the name written in between the wings. Dead center on the knob his spine. Castiel. In Enochian. In the same haunting lightning blue as the man’s eyes.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

He got a name- Cas’ name- tattooed on him.

Like a fucking chick.

Oh my god.

As if having his branded handprint wasn't enough, he got the dudes name too. In his language. 

WITH WINGS.

Oh fuck me.

He shifted again and a hiss left his lips. Why wasn't this thing covered anyway? Oh. Right. Drunk. Drunk him probably thought it was a good idea to take off the bandages. Stupid, stupid drunk him. He quickly turned on the shower- making sure it was lukewarm because he did NOT want to piss this thing off more than it already felt. He has a couple of tattoos. Obviously. But he’s never had one THIS BIG and THIS PISSED. Who the hell even did the tattoo anyway?

Wasn't there a law now forbidding tattooing drunk people??

Asshats.

Stepping under the water, he washes his face and rids himself of the dried spit/alcohol/dirt/whatever-the-hell drunk him managed to get on his face. And then, biting his lip, he turns to the side and carefully rinses the tattoo with his hands. Which is the most awkward thing on the planet. How the fuck do you wash something in the middle of your back without the water actually hitting it?? Oh drunk him was so STUPID. The shower was quick- luckily he had the right kind of soap. Because god after accidently putting scented soap on his anti-possession tattoo then on an open but healing wound, dean learned not to buy it.

Oh he learned alright. 

The shower ended just as quickly as it started and the drying off process was a freaking process. How the fuck are you supposed to pat-dry your back!? ...fuck it, it’ll air dry. It wasn't until he took exactly 3 ½ steps out of the bathroom in nothing but the towel around his waist that he realized OH SHIT SAM COULD SEE THE TATTOO AND LAUGH AND OMGSAMWOULDNEVERLETHIMLIVETHISDOWNAND-

And Sam was not here.

Great.

He freaked out for nothing.

The breath he didn't even know he was holding left his lungs in a swoosh. One less thing to worry about for the time being. Now to search for clues.making his way over to the bed, he managed to simultaneously tug on a pair of semi-clean jeans (hell yeah commando!) and look for clues from last night.

How sad is it that he needs clues to parts of his own life?

Pretty damn sad.

Oh well, lets start with the rats nest he calls a bed, shall we?

Dean carts through the messed up sheets and blinks at the plastic and tape in the bed. Huh, so it was covered. At least drunk him wasn't completely retarded. The rather large dark patch of ink and blood on the bed made him wince though. House keeping was just going to LOVE him.

Oh well. Its not like they would be here long enough for it to matter. But other than the -mostly- dried spot on the bed, there was nothing else. Not even a freakin business card. Unless...he dropped to the ground and checked under the bed.

Score! A plastic baggy full of things! He grabbed the bag and dug through the items. More importantly, a baggie full of aftercare stuff. And a business card.

Ink Me Baby One More Time.

“You’ve got to be fucking KIDDING ME!” He was going to die. Of ink poisoning. Who the hell even names a tattoo parlor that??? Stupid, stupid, STUPID drunk-dean! AND as if all the rest of it wasn't bad-fucking-enough, the ointment was baby rash cream. Meaning he had to smell like baby ass. He was going to die. Of embarrassment. Or the tattoo. Or both. He cusses, pops open the tube of baby-ass-rash-cream, and slathers it on pretty fucking awkwardly. As in, it covers most of his back. As if that would help anyway. If he’s poisoned, its too late. But if he's not, better safe than sorry. And of course, before he can berate intoxicated-him anymore, the unthinkable happens.

The door lock turns.

The door opens.

And Sam walks through the door.

A yelp (a very manly yelp thank you very fuckin much!) escapes his mouth and he hits the floor between the bed and the wall before Sam could blink. And dean groans. That fucking HURT.

“Umm...dude?” Dean manages to look over the top of the bed to see Sam in the doorway. wearing -of course- his favorite bitch face. He snorts. “Are you...okay?” Dean growls. Sam is talking to him like he's crazy. And...well yeah okay dean is currently questioning his sanity right now but he doesn't need Sam doing it too, damnit! So he coughs, fumbles, and grabs a random shirt on the floor.

“I’m good! I’m good. Just getting my shirt.” As if to prove his point, he waves the article of clothing above his head happily. And Sam snorts, shutting the door behind him. 

“Yeah okay dude whatever. I got food. You were passed out pretty hard. I figured some lunch would help.” Lunch, seriously? Dean glanced at the clock and- sure enough- it was a little past 1. Goddamn he slept in late. This was waaaay past his typical 4 hours a night. Then again, he couldn't remember exactly what time he went to bed either. He could've been out for DAYS as far as he knew. The smell of greasy tacos made his mouth water. Oh hell yeah, Sam got his hangover food. Goddamn, he loved his little brother! And while he was scenting the food, Sam did some scenting of his own. And paused, the younger freezing in the chair he so gracefully plopped down in. “Dude.” Dean knew that look. Hell, he knew that tone. And he froze. “does it smell like a diaper in here?

oh shit.

Oh shit. 

ohshitohshitohshit.

Dean coughed.

Sam raised an eyebrow.

Dean looked everywhere but Sam.

And Sam glared.

“Please tell me you did not steal a baby.” How DARE Sam accuse him of that! Dean sputtered indignantly, glaring at his brother.

“No Sammy, in fact I did not.” That ass. Saying he stole a kid. As if. Dean coughed awkwardly again, shuffling his feet. He was really hungry. But he wasn't going anywhere near Sam. Oh god, he could not see his back. He would never let him live it down.

“Then what, you have a rash all of the sudden?” The teasing smile that was sent to him had Dean sending death through his eyes. Screw loving him, Dean was going to beat his ass. Dean huffed, crossing his arms. And he winced when it pulled the skin of his shoulders tight. Like, ow. that really actually hurt.

“No you prick. I just…” Well, he couldn't hide it forever. “I got a tattoo is all.” The shock on Sammy’s face almost made him do a victory lap. 

Almost.

“Really? Let me see!” And that was all it took. In three seconds flat, Dean was flying through the bathroom door and slamming it in Sammy’s face. He didn't care how long he had to hide, Sam would not, could not, and will not see the tattoo. 

Dean would live in this bathroom if need be.

 

\-----

 

So yeah, first chapter. Let me know what y'all think?


	2. Don't You Touch My Nest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH SHIT ANOTHER CHAPTER

It took 5 hours of hiding in the bathroom before Sam left him alone enough to slink out.

 

Another hour of threatening Sam bodily harm if he even dared to cross the line in the middle of the room to get a peep at Dean’s back.

 

3 hours after that, Sam crossed the line.

 

Dean spent the rest of the night in the bathroom after that.

 

Since then, it had been 4 ½ days since the boys had left the motel. Usually by now they would be on the road to the next hunt. Or at the very least, getting the hell out of dodge so they weren't caught by a fed or a demon or some chick the slept with or heaven forbid that chick’s man...you get the point. But Dean refused to leave until he could put a freakin shirt on.

 

I mean, its illegal to go without one in public, right?

 

Or, that's what he told himself at least. It hurt too much to lift his arms above his head to put on a damn shirt. It’s like the tattoo artist drilled into his freakin MUSCLE. And even if he could, he didn't want to. The thing FINALLY stopped bleeding ink on the 3rd day. He didn’t want to ruin the few pairs of shirts he owned. Besides, even if it weren't bleeding, he would still have to worry about the whole ‘washing it 3-5 times a day thing’. The life of a hunter wasn't exactly clean. And since it took up most of his upper back, washing it meant showering.

 

He hasn't been this clean in years.

 

At least Sam has stopped pestering him about it.

 

Mostly.

 

Kind of.

 

Not really.

 

At least he understood the need to keep it clean. Which is why they were still here instead of on the road where he could sweat on, bump it, and possibly scratch it out of stupidity. At least Sam was granting him that small reprieve. If how badly the one on his chest itched was any indication, this thing was going to suck. Already the tingling between his shoulder blades was near constant. It was almost like someone kept taking a feather to his back to tickle and make him itch.

 

And no, the irony was not lost on him.

 

But Dean could finally see that his brother had had enough and wanted to leave. It was a bad case of Winchester-itis. They could never stay in one place too long before they had the urge to move. Or run or whatever. Some people would say that's unhealthy. Actually most people would probably say that. And they’d be right. But dean couldn't think about that right now. 

 

Because he had to clench his teeth and bare down against that Winchester instinct.

 

“Come on Dean, its been 5 days! You can put a shirt on a leave by now!” Dean glared at him from the nest he had made in the corner of the room. It backed him into a corner where ginormous couldn't look down and around to see his back. It was his safe spot. And dammit he was staying there! To make his point, he burrowed further into his lovely warm little nest.

 

“Fuck you.” That was TOTALLY a legit response. Sam made his typical bitchface again and started packing a bag. 

 

“Damnit Dean!” In goes a shotgun. “We have more important-” a couple of books now. “-things to do!” don't forget the holy water now. Huffing, Sam zipped up the bag and glared. “You can't hide your back forever Dean.” ...Dean hissed and burrowed further. He could and he would damnit!

 

“We have nowhere to be you liar! You just want-” and then of course, IT happens. Because Dean is the unluckiest son of a bitch on planet earth. What is it you ask? Well. First he felt the small tingling in his shoulder. Then he felt the subtle shift in the air, like the moment before a big lightning storm. Finally the sound of ruffling feathers reached his ears and it was all Dean could do not to groan aloud. From happiness or not- he couldn't say.

 

“Hello Dean.” Cas is here. In the room. With him. And the new tattoo. Could this GET ANY FUCKING BETTER? For the first time in a long time, Dean was not happy to see his- THE- angel. He said the angel. Not his. Just saying. In fact, Cas could show up any other time but now and it would be completely fine. But instead of jumping up to clap a hand onto Cas’ shoulder like Dean so desperately wanted to, he did not. Instead he hid, and burrowed deeper in his cocoon until his head and entire body was covered and only his eyes were visible.

 

“Hi Cas.” And then Cas did the adorable head tilt and eye squint that made Dean’s brain go to mush. Sam sighed behind him and dean didn't have to see his brother to know that he was pinching the area between his eyes in frustration.

 

“Why are you...like that?” This time Sam sighed louder and moved closer to Cas. But dean’s eyes were locked on blue so he didn't care much. And then Sam seemed to perk up and THAT got Dean’s attention real freakin quick.

 

“Cas you can heal him!” The glare that dean had been wearing for the past few days came back with a vengeance. Stupid Sammy opening his big mouth. Dean could see the exact moment Cas went into protective angel mode and it both warmed and worried him. Cas couldn't see the tattoo. Even more so than Sam. Because Cas wouldn't listen if Dean said it was an accident. Or a stupid drunken mistake. What if Cas never spoke to him again? Oh god, what if cas hated him?? His eyes widened at the thought and a whimper (a very manly whimper) escaped his throat. He couldn't handle Cas hating him. So, with that thought in mind, he slammed back into the corner as much as possible and tried to bury himself alive in his blankets.

 

“Don't you touch my nest Sammy or I will gut you alive!” The shocked look Cas gave to that statement was either ignored or misunderstood. Either way, the angel froze immediately as if he was made out of stone. Seconds ticked by. Dean continues glaring. And Cas is actually floundering for words.

 

“Dean.” Green eyes snap back to blue. Its the only part Cas can see of Dean, which is very off putting for the angel. “You are...injured?” he really doesn't mean it like a question but it comes out as one. Neither brother seems to be panicking or making pained sounds. And the only blood Castiel can smell is days old from Dean so obviously if he was actually wounded, they would have called him earlier...right? Cas took one step closer to him and he watched as the blanked bunched tighter.

 

“I’m fine Cas.” goddamnit his voice did NOT just crack! He could hear Sammy snickering somewhere behind Cas but dean ignored him. Or, tried to ignore him. A frustrated growl left his chest at his brother. How dare he laugh at him!

 

“Sam seems to think you are not.” The eye roll and the pointed stare seem to go over the angel’s head and Dean huffed. Of course would take Dean being injured seriously. He always took anything causing Dean pain seriously. Hell, one time Dean got a paper cut and seconds later he watched the paper go up in flames. And Cas wasn't even there! But he knew the angel did it. Because his print tingled!

 

...okay that sounded a little wrong.

 

“Sammy is just being an ass.” That got the angel’s attention and seemed to snap him out of whatever momma-hen type mindset he was in. It was quiet for a second as the angel stared at him. His eyes were so blue. Then Sam decided to reappear in the conversation.

 

Ass.

 

“I am not being an ass Dean!” Cas’ eyes left him for his brother and Dean almost whined at having the attention taken away from him. Almost. But he didn't. Because what man whines? 

 

Not a Winchester that's for damn certain. 

 

“Look Cas, he went out, got smashed, and got a tattoo. Now the thing is taking forever to heal and I would personally like to leave but the primadonna over there is being stubborn!” Well excuse me Samantha, primadonna don't want her shit to get messed up! Slowly the lump of blankets shifted to the right, just enough to get Sam into dean’s line of sight. And the glare of doom was back on. And Sam glared right back. 

 

“You have marked yourself again?” And Dean’s attention shifted back to Cas. Who had gotten close enough that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. When the fuck did that happen?? Whatever Dean was going to say died on his tongue as he lost himself in Cas’ gaze. He could never focus with the angel’s eyes on him.

 

“Yes and he wont show it to me!” Now Sam just sounded like a kid throwing a tantrum. Dean knew it. Cas knew it. Which is why they just stared at him until the giant shifted awkwardly. “well he won't…” This is proof that no matter how big Sam gets, he will always be a kid. And it makes Dean snort. At least that is never going to change. Cas swapped a look at both of them before sighing and sticking two fingers out towards Dean. Whose eyes got huge.

 

“WAIT!” Well...Cas stopped. And stared. And Dean stared right back. Focus Deano, need to say words! “Well...um…” Words genius, say WORDS. “When you mojo me healthy again, can you see it?” He thanked himself for making it so where Cas could only see his eyes. Because Dean was blushing bad. Like he always does when Cas is around. Or focusing on him. Or when he thinks about him. Or...yeah.

 

“Yes.” And with that, Dean’s arm slithered from his eye hole, grabbed the only remaining pillow on the bed, and tugged it back into his nest under the blanket. 

 

“Don’t touch me.” Which is the complete opposite thing Dean ever wants to say ever, but if it stops Cas from seeing his back then goddammit he was going to say it. While rearranging the pillows, he missed the look of hurt on Cas’ face. Which probably would've sent him back peddling like a mother fucker.

 

So its good he didn't see it...right? 

 

Ugh.

 

Feelings suck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah son...question/comment/concern this bitch.


	3. It Reminds Me of The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starts out cute and then fucked.

Its been 3 weeks since Dean got the infamous tattoo. 

 

17 days since Castiel had visited Dean and _didn't_ heal the infamous tattoo.

 

And it was driving Castiel up the wall. The angel considered himself extremely patient. Patience is a virtue after all. And he prided himself on it. So after he had told the boys of the salt and burn 1 state away, he left to do his own angel thing. Putting heaven back together and all that. But he couldn’t focus on it; not completely anyway. Like always, his mind was back with the Winchesters. Specifically, it was on Dean’s back. And why Dean would not let him see it. I mean, he rebuilt Dean atom by atom. Molecule by molecule. And now he couldn't heal his charge because he went and branded himself again?

 

They share a profound bond!

 

Okay maybe one of the human traits call obsession, he picked up. But it only made him a better soldier. Unfortunately it also made him think way too much of the flesh on Dean’s back. Well, more than what would be considered normal. He is allowed to worry about his charge. But its not only the tattoo. Dean has not prayed once to him since he got it. Whether intentionally or not...not one prayer.

 

In 17 days.

 

Cas was slowly losing his mind. 

 

Dean always prayed to Cas. Even if he didn’t know he did. Their bond was profound enough for Cas to pick up on just thoughts about the other. But it was as if Dean was clamping down on their bond- shoving it away.

 

It did not seem right to him.

 

He did not like not being able to feel Dean in every way. It felt unnatural not to.

 

It put his grace on edge. 

 

Something could be wrong. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Dean could be hurt. 

 

And that made panic flood his system.

 

_Cas can you hear me?_ It was Sam calling him. Not Dean. It was always Dean who called him. But not now. _Cas I know typically Dean is the one to do this but we need some help. We’re at a motel called Mama's, room 207 in Kerrville, Texas. There's a nest of werewolves and we thought we could handle it but Dean got attacked and-_ The next moment Cas was in the motel standing next to a praying Sam. 

 

Who damn near jumped out of his skin when he appeared.

 

“Hey Cas.” it was a breathy whisper from Sam, as if Cas suddenly appearing scared the breath out of him. Which is entirely plausible. Cas had been ignoring most of Sam’s pleas since the last time he had been in the Winchester’s presence. He was hoping Dean would get fed up and call him. Apparently that didn't happen. Its not like he had anything against the younger brother. It just wasn't who he wanted to see.

 

“Hello Sam. You needed help?” Sam nodded and launched into the story of how they followed a trail of werewolves to Texas and how they thought there were maybe 4 and then while they were hunting it turned out to be at least 8 and they had got the jump on the two brothers. Sam had escaped with a gash on his arm. He said Dean got away with a bruised ankle and a black eye. And Cas heard all of this. But his main focus of attention wasn't on Sam.

 

It was on the bathroom door.

 

That Dean was on the other side of.

 

Him and that tattoo.

 

That no one else had seen.

 

_Except_ for the person that put it there.

 

As Sam came to the tail end of his story, the bathroom door opened. And there stood Dean in all his jeans and tshirt glory, brushing his teeth and smiling at Cas through the gobs of toothpaste.

 

“Ha Cah.” Sam made a bitch face beside him. Cas blinked.

 

“Hello Dean.” He could see the dark mark on his left eye, and how the lid was a little lower than his right. He also noticed how the hunter favored his left leg instead of his usual right- meaning it was his right ankle that was messed up.

 

“Dude!” And just like that, Dean was turning around and walking back into the bathroom to finish his morning routine. But not before blowing a spit/toothpaste bubble at Sam. Just to make his brother squawk. Then sigh. “So do you think you can help us? Or are you busy...ya know...with heaven stuff?” He always found it interesting how these two could condense all that he does- the war, killing his brothers, trying to patch heaven back together again- all into two words. Angel Stuff. They made it sound so simple.

 

“Of course he wants to help Sammy.” And there Dean is, bright and smiling with his freshly brushed teeth and still messy hair and that damn Led Zeppelin shirt covering that damn tattoo.

 

Castiel was not obsessing.

 

He was not.

 

“Dean you can’t just assume he wants-” And Cas cut him off, eyes never leaving Dean’s.

 

“I will help in anyway I can.” And Dean smiled. That toothy smile. 

 

“See Sammy, even Cas likes a good hunt.” Dean had walked over to them and slapped Sam across the back of the head. It was a sign of affection- he had learned though he never saw any other humans do it. It must be a Winchester thing.

 

“Jerk.”

 

“Bitch.” 

 

And yes, while Castiel would absolutely love to know what the tattoo is, he could live with just being around the brothers for the moment. He had told Dean once that he enjoyed being here on earth- and actually preferred being with them over heaven sometimes. While yes the boys hunted and were therefore never technically safe- especially with all the heaven stuff happening as well- being with the two was...simpler. More enjoyable. And he did enjoy it. 

 

Being here with Sam and Dean.

“Would you like me to heal you first?” He asked now- after all the times Dean complained about the personal space problem. _You can't just go around touching peoples foreheads Cas its WEIRD!_ Of course Dean told him that. But Castiel didn't listen...much. Honestly he had no idea why humans deemed personal space important. In heaven, everyone is celestial light and light commingled. The whole non-touching thing is still a foreign concept to him even after all this time. But Sam nodded, closing his eyes when Cas touched him. His gash was healed instantly. Dean on the other hand looked at him warily. He played it off, saying it was just some bruises and that it was okay because girls like the tough guy look. Which -again- he didn't understand. Why would girls like someone who got punched in the face? But Cas nodded anyway and took a step away, ignoring the hurt that flashed through him at Dean’s relieved sigh.

 

“Tell me all that you know.” This time they both filled him in on the information- cutting out a lot of the play by play since Sam had told him most of it already. They went over the fact that these wolves weren't just hunting on the full moon- but the half moon too. And sometimes sporadically in between. It was so reminiscent of the alpha they caught that they had to take a moment before continuing. It wasn't necessary to mention the past. So they moved on, discussing the possible locations for the den. Which was damn near impossible because its Texas and EVERYWHERE is a possibility for a werewolf den.

 

“Man, freakin TEXAS MAN!” And like that, Dean was pushing away from the small dinette that they had placed themselves around to grab a beer. Cas and Sam watched him, but Cas kept his eyes on his back, as if trying to see through the clothing and find that damn tattoo. He knew Sam saw him staring. But the taller man shrugged away. He always stared at people- and staring at Dean was nothing new.

 

So what now?

 

Well...now they explore.

 

Check out the scenery and all that.

 

Contrary to his bitching, Dean loves Texas. Always have and always will. He came here a lot back when it was just him or him and dad. The state was HUGE and it bordered Mexico. 

 

Some seriously weird shit came out of Mexico.

 

But the people were nice, the food was amazing (even gas station food), and theres always shit to do in between hunts- even in nowheresville Texas. But he’d never been here before. The atmosphere was nice. Homey even. If a town could be homey. They toured the town, taking in the family-run stores with a smile. Even if neither brother said it, the town reminded them of Lawrence. They had spent the previous few days playing the whole ‘cop’ role so now there was nothing to do but observe. They watched the people- looked for abnormalities. They watched the animals- they always knew when something was up. But it was calm. And against their better judgement, the three started to relax. 

 

They walk, enjoying the sun on their skin- Dean and Sam forgoing their many layers in the Texas heat. It makes Cas stand out more, but neither brother mentions it. And when they turn a corner and Cas is suddenly in only his button down, tie, and slacks- they don't mention that either.

 

They check out the massive park that the brothers had passed on the way in. People mingled in the park enjoying the summer sun. A group of guys ran by, tossing a football around the group, one tackling and then sending majority of the guys to the ground laughing. The normality of the action had Sam filled with longing. But no one mentioned it.

 

An old car show was going on in one of the parking lots and Dean practically beamed with excitement, dragging both Cas and Sam with him to check out the cars. He almost wished he had baby to show off but they had left her at the motel. Dean explained each model that caught his eye- honestly it was almost all of them- and both men listened. Though if they were doing it just to please Dean or because they were actually interested, neither said.

They ended the day at a small hometown diner. Dean ordered Cas a greasy cheeseburger identical to his own and it wasn't until the waitress brought it did he realize what he had done. Cas didnt eat. The blush that covered Dean’s cheeks had Sam laughing loudly- he had just sat back and watched him make a fool of himself.

 

“Bitch.”

 

“Jerk.”

 

Dean stole a handful of fries from Sam’s plate and before he could say anything, Cas had taken a rather large bite from the burger. Which had both brothers blinking.

 

“You can eat?” Sam looked surprised from where he sat across from his brother and the angel. Well of course he was surprised. Cas never ate before. Well..he did when he was Jimmy. And that one time with Famine. The thought made Dean wince.

 

“I have no need for sustenance. But I do enjoy the flavor of human food.” THAT earned him an odd look from a passing bystander but it was ignored.

 

“Look at Cas, acting all human and stuff. See Sammy, this proves that burgers are better than rabbit food.” He gestured to the abysmal (in his opinion and of course that is the ONLY opinion that matters) salad that sits in front of Sam. “They convert angels!” He bumped his shoulder with Cas’, trying -and failing- to ignore the heat in his arm from where the handprint had brushed against Cas. Even through the layers of their shirts he could feel the other man’s heat and it made the print burn hot- something that had never happened before. 

 

Dean gasped.

 

Cas’ eyes widened. 

 

But neither said a word.

 

Sam just looked confused before turning back to his salad.

 

“So, tonight is the full moon. Are we going?” They tended to keep their conversations about hunting vague in public because Cas- bless his heart as they say in Texas- couldn't keep his damn voice low enough not to draw attention. But while he hadn’t grabbed the concept of whispering or being vague, he at least learned not to say things like kill, hunt, maim, werewolf, ghost, or any of the variations above, in public. 

 

“I think that would be our best bet. Should we head out of town where the-” The angel looked pretty damn uncomfortable skirting around the word and it made Dean smirk. “-animals seem to be?” The brothers nodded at each other and stood. And if Dean’s hip just happened to brush Cas’ arm when he stood because they were sitting just that close, well, Dean didn't say anything. A couple of bills landed on the table, including a few extra for the perky waitress.

 

“Let’s go boys.”

 

\---

 

They had been ambushed.

 

Again.

 

Dean was really starting to hate werewolves.

 

Right there behind fucking witches.

 

His shoulders stung. By god they stung. And his left leg wasn't faring much better. Honestly he should’ve let Cas heal him in the first place. Because now it hurt to walk with both legs instead of just one. Fucking perfect.

 

“You two okay?” Fuck his throat hurt. Screaming obscenities and distracting wolves would do that to a guy. First thing he was doing when they got back to baby was drowning his throat in cold water. That’s totally happening. He waited a couple of seconds. 

 

No answer.

 

What the hell?

 

“Guys?” He looked over his shoulder, away from the rapidly cooling body in front of him. Cas seemed okay. He was standing over an equally okay looking Sam where he had jumped when his moose of a brother had fallen to the ground. Yes they looked banged up, but they’ve had worse.

 

“Hello?” He tried to meet their eyes. But they weren't looking at him. Well they were...but not at his face? They were looking...lower? A breeze fluttered by and Dean shivered when it hit his bare back. 

 

He froze.

 

Bare back? oh-

 

“ _-shit._ ” He turned around as fast as he could. But it was too late. They had seen it. All of it. Now he realized he was shirtless. Like he knew when the wolf had clawed at him and very painfully ripped his shirt and back to bits...but now he like, _knew_ knew. Goosebumps from both the cool breeze and something akin to _fear_ littered his upper torso. And he just stared at them.

 

Oh god.

 

They knew.

 

What does he do.

 

What the fuck is he supposed to do!?

 

“Dean.” Sam sounded shocked. Well...yeah he would. He saw the wings. Hell, he saw Cas’ name. And Cas… Dean refused to look at him. As soon as the angel spoke, Dean would run. 

 

This is it. This is when Cas would hate him.

 

Dean tried to cross his arms over his chest.

 

And damn near cried out when the skin across his shoulders was pulled taunt. He could feel a cool stickiness run down his back and the feeling made him wince. Oh fuck he was injured across the wings.

 

Could this possibly get any fucking better?

 

He wasn’t even supposed to scratch the damn things and here a werewolf went and used them as a goddamn scratching post.

 

“I-” And Cas was gone. His shoulder- Cas’ mark _BURNED_ and then he was gone. 

 

He wouldn't cry.

 

Winchesters don't cry.

 

Dean sunk to his knees in pain- physical, emotional, mental, you choose. But he hurt. At the same time Sam jumped up, hobbling over to him.

 

“Dean! DEAN! Speak damnit!” But he couldn't. Hell, he could barely think. Cas had left. Cas hated him. All because of the damn tattoo. The stupid drunk fucking mistake.

 

He sighed- the deep breath hurting his back.

 

Fuck his life.

 

“Just get me back to the motel Sammy.” His defeated tone said enough. 

 

He didn’t want to talk about it. 

 

He didn’t want to think about it.

 

He just wanted to rest.

 

Sammy paused, looking over his brother’s injured form before swooping down and wrapping an arm around his waist. When Dean attempted to put his arm around Sam, his back spasmed in pain. But he swore, winced, and grunted through it. He could feel his back tear further, and he could feel the gash right along the right wing. But he didn’t care. Gingerly the two hobbled back towards the impala. And when Sam gestured towards the keys, Dean didn’t even put up a fight. Which had Sam all kinds of worried but Dean couldn’t care less if he tried. So instead he removed his belt, scootched into the passenger’s side, and tightened the damn thing around his right thigh until he hissed. Goddamn he got tore up. The rumble of the impala soothed him as they drove and Dean let out a long -albeit pain filled- sigh.

At least he always had his baby and Sam.

Dean wanted to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this started out funny and now...it's not. I wasn't really planning on it to be that way so it just kinda happened.   
> But life can be funny and then not and then it is again.
> 
> So...rate and review? The next part is written, I just REALLY need to edit it. Badly. Like...super badly. Oops.


	4. Cry Me A River, Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the latest installment of Ink Me Baby One More Time!

4 days. 

 

It’s been 4 days since they hunted the werewolf pack.

 

4 days since they killed every one of those last fuckers and Dean wanted to bring them back JUST SO he could kill them again for the trouble they’ve caused. 

 

Dean is now bed ridden, stuck on his stomach like a goddamn invalid.

 

After managing to get back in one piece and SOMEHOW into the motel room without anyone coming out to check out the pained curses or the blood trail leading from the car to the room, they set to work cleaning each other up.

 

Sammy had a dislocated shoulder from when a wolf landed on him, pushing him to the ground at an awkward angle. Also a broken finger and another nasty gash on his arm from blocking said wolf. Dean got a nice kick out of shooting that one between the eyes. Seeing his brother in pain gave Dean the brilliant thought of using himself as a distraction for Sam and Cas.

 

Needless to say, he was much worse off.

 

There were the horrible gashes that went down his left leg where one had jumped and clawed him like he was a motherfucking tree stump. The lovely cut on his bicep where a tree branch cut into his arm. And, oh yes how could he forget, THE GOD DAMN GASHES ACROSS HIS BACK. They were deep-deeper than he originally thought. They assume the only reason he didn’t feel them immediately was because of the adrenalin coursing through his veins. It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened. Cleaning them was a bitch. 

 

Stitches in his arm? No biggie.

 

Stitches in his thigh and down past his knee? Okay, fucking OW but he managed.

 

Having Sam dig out bits of t-shirt from his back and stitch together the still healing flesh of his back? 

 

Never again. 

 

He never wanted to go through that again. His back was sensitive- something that was discovered in hell. So even if he didn’t have the tattoo, this would still hurt like a bitch. But if he didn’t have the damn thing, Cas would’ve healed him. Healed him and NOT flown away as soon as his feathery ass could.

 

Lets not talk about that.

 

Because the worst thing was when Sam tried to talk to him about it.

 

“Dean.” That's all he got out.

 

“No Sam.” He didn’t even bother with the nickname that Sam hated. There was no teasing. Dean was pissed, tired, in pain, and was 500% done with this.

 

“Maybe you should talk to him-”

 

“I fuckin’ said NO Sam.” And that had been the end of it. He had felt Sam’s eyes boring through his back as he stitched him up, eyes going over every inked line in his flesh. He especially felt those eyes where he knew Cas’ name was. Or where it used to be- he wasn’t sure. He had no idea how badly the damn tattoo had been mangled.

 

The whole time Dean wanted to sob. Kick. Scream. ANYTHING. But he just sat there as Sam patched him up, barely wincing towards the end since the blood loss had made him go numb. He had laid down in the bed that night and the next morning when all the endorphins had run out, he couldn’t get up. His back was on fire with every movement.

 

Sam had to help him to the bathroom to pee.

 

Sam had to fucking hand feed him because it hurt to lift his arms.

 

Sam had to change the channel on the TV because injury and blood loss had made Dean so weak he couldn’t even fucking do that.

 

And it had been that way for 4 days.

 

He just wanted the ground to open him up and swallow him whole.

 

So when Sam said he was going out that night, Dean barely acknowledged him. Sam deserved to go out and get away from his useless ass self.

 

It took one hour after Sam left for it to hit.

 

It had been 4 days since all this went down and not a word from Cas. 

 

He prayed every second of every day- calling the angel and apologizing and just BEGGING him to show up. He tried bribing. He tried pleading. Hell, he even tried to get him to come and heal Sammy, saying he would hide in the bathroom while it happened so Cas didn’t even have to look at him. Even the handprint that always felt a little warmer than the rest of his body felt ice cold to the touch.

 

Not a word.

 

Not a whisper of wings.

 

All it took was that one hour before that dam broke. For the first time in 2 years, Dean cried. He clutched the pillow that propped him up under his chest and head, clinging to it like a life line. Loud, pain filled sobs wracked his body and he poured all his frustration, pain, and humiliation into the pillow.

 

He had lost his best friend.

 

All over some stupid drunken mistake.

 

He hated himself so much.

 

He tried to curl in on himself, but the injured back and leg only letting him slide one knee up and under him. He just wanted to hide. To forget all of this ever happened.

 

What he was not expecting was to hear the sound of wings.

 

Or to feel the grace of his best friend as the angel landed in his room.

 

Dean froze.

 

Oh god, here it comes. 

 

Cas was here to yell. To verbally rip him a new one.

 

He didnt even have the luxury of having his back covered. Both Sam and he knew the fastest way to heal something was to put medicine on it and let it breathe. He didn’t have the strength, energy, or will to move to try and hide his back. So he just layed there, barely breathing, just waiting.

 

And he waited.

 

He felt Castiel’s eyes on him- on his back. And the humiliation had him choking back another onslaught of tears. He couldn’t even cry in peace. Cas, the one person he always wanted to be strong around and never show any weakness, had fucking flown in as he was sobbing like a goddamn girl. This physically couldn’t get any worse.

 

“Well?” God his voice sounded terrible. Barely more than gravel. He’d spoken a handful of times to Sam the past 4 days, instead choosing to wallow in the pit of self-loathing he’d dug himself. He noticed the handprint (that was clearly visible to the angel for the first time in Dean didn’t know how long) still felt like ice, something that alone was enough to worry about. But the damn thing always warmed when Cas was near. It was disconcerting that it felt...dead. Especially since the angel was RIGHT THERE. It made Dean bury his head into the pillow further and hiss when his back was pulled tighter.

 

He didn’t move otherwise. He didn’t try and look at Castiel. He didn’t push his leg down, attempting to hide his feeble attempts at a fetal position. He just...didn’t.

 

He couldn’t anymore.

 

“Well what Dean.” Castiel’s voice cut through his self-deprecating thoughts like a knife and Dean bared his teeth to the pillow. He was going to make him say it.

 

“Go ahead and tell me you hate me.” He was ready for it.

 

No he wasn’t.

 

Please don’t say it.

 

Please Cas, don't.

 

Or do, just don’t stand there! 

 

But he just...stood there. Or at least, Dean assumed he was just standing there. Staring at him. Judging him. He couldn’t handle the silence. He needed Cas to yell, scream, do something! Anything! The sound of footsteps on the carpet had Dean tensing. Oh god, Cas was going to beat him. Possibly kill him. But the angel stopped- close enough that Dean could feel his body heat. Close enough that without looking, Dean knew he could touch him.

 

“Your wings are damaged.” His voice was...off. And the sound had dean gasping. Honestly he thought Cas was going to hit him, beat him, smite him. He didn’t think the guy would COMMENT on them.

 

“The -uh…” And now he was floundering for words. Because this was going the complete OPPOSITE way he imagined. “wolf got me pretty bad. Can’t sit up.” An acknowledging noise deep in the back of Cas’ throat was Dean’s only reply.

 

Then silence.

 

The first touch of barely-there fingertips had Dean hissing. The second touch, along one of the lines of stitches had him shuddering in an odd mixture of pain and not-quite pleasure. Castiel was healing him. That's what he was feeling. He’d just never...done it this slow before.

 

It felt weird.

 

He's used to it being done instantaneously.

 

Not feeling the skin stitch itself together millimeter by millimeter.

 

The finger traced wide on his shoulder blade and Dean dimly realized he was tracing the outline of the wing. The touch ran low to where the longest feathers laid at the dip in his lower back then back up.

 

Dean gasped.

 

Cas growled. it was a deep rumble that started deep in his chest and echoed in the dark room. 

 

It wasn't human.

 

Cas wasn't human.

 

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” The words mixed with the rumble _caressed_ his skin along with the fingers, tracing another long feather on his back. Sparks of grace traveled through him and he felt his skin knitting back together. “Tattooing this on your body.” This time a nail scratched downwards, across newly healed flesh and Dean whimpered.

 

“I’m sorry Cas. really-” The nails dig into his back harder and he gasps in pain as they catch on a stitch, pulling it out before the skin heals without a blemish. It hurts and then the pain is gone and Dean’s mind is in a tumble. and then Castiel’s full hand is on him, pressing directly over the spot Dean _knows_ where Castiel is written and its pushing him hard into the pillows then harder into the mattress. And Dean can only brace himself and choke on air as his back warms, the skin healing- slowly yes but oh so good.

 

“You’ve marked yourself with my _name._ My _wings._ ” And humiliation is burning him from the inside out and he was glad his face was pushed into the bed. A whimper left his lips and he went pliant in submission, awaiting Cas’ punishment.

 

The growl dropped an octave deeper and Dean swore he felt it in his bones.

 

“Do you have any idea what this means to angels, _boy_?” The power behind that statement alone had Dean’s eyes flying open. The strong callous-less fingers pressing into his back curled and he could feel them dig into his flesh, like they were trying to grab the ink feathers. And then heat was flooding into his system

 

Fire went through his being, hitting every nerve ending.

 

The handprint on his arm _burned_ and Dean felt himself pulling away and pushing back all at once.

 

“Wha- what do?” But he couldn't talk. He couldn’t think. His body was thrumming and it took him a moment to realize he was thrumming in time with Cas.

 

It was his grace.

 

Cas’ grace.

 

Oh holy _FUCK_.

 

Then Cas is pressing down harder and Dean can feel the angel bending over him. Gone is the fear of Castiel beating him and instead in its wake is curiosity and apprehension. but he can’t think about that. He can’t focus on that. Because the grace is burning brighter and hotter. because Cas’ other hand is on him now, touching the opposite shoulder- the other wing.

_“You are telling other angels that you are mine, boy.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped y'all liked it. I'm having some difficulties on what direction I want to take this. But it seems my writers block (of all of 5 days) has disappeared! So hopefully the next chapter shall be up faster.
> 
> That's the good thing about driving a lot. It gives me time to think about my stories. :)
> 
> Alrighty sweeties! You know the drill- rate and review so I can feel your love!


	5. I Just Realized This NOW?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wish all conversations would go this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE LONG AWAITED (for all of 3 days) CHAPTER IS HERE!
> 
> You may or may not need a drool rag.

Dean doesn’t consider himself a smart man.

 

If you were to ask him, Sammy got all the brains, and he got all the sex appeal. Some would disagree... and he would tell them to fuck off. Every once in awhile he’ll get a good idea on one of their hunts and then he’ll claim to be brilliant for the hell of it.

 

But honestly and truly he does not see himself as intelligent.

 

But even a sack of flour could understand what Castiel meant by MINE. And the exclamation had Dean freezing. His mouth had gone dry. His breath caught in his lungs.

 

What do you say to _that?_

 

Like I said, Dean does not consider himself a smart man. So he tends to say the opposite of what should be said.

 

“But I thought,” and he had to force another breath in because Cas was still pinning him to the bed below, “you had already marked me.” Both hands scratched before clawing downwards making Dean his at the pain- then not there pain as the grace healed him almost instantly. It was too much. Too many sensations for his human body to understand. The growling went up in pitch before lowering again.

 

“Ar ol bariun, _Dean_.” And FUCK that wasn’t English. And a shiver went down his spine as Castiel’s hand lined up perfectly with the handprint and grabbed _hard_ and Dean damn near screamed because it was _perfect._ Like finally scratching that itch that's been bothering you all day accept this was an itch he’d had since the day he dug himself out of his own grave.

 

“ _Cas_ …” He said it like a prayer. And maybe it was. The hands let up a little, but remained possessive. The one on his shoulder squeezed; the one on his back traced the now healed wings; and Dean’s eyes crossed at the onslaught of grace again. At the onslaught of _emotion._

 

Emotion that wasn’t his.

 

Anger. 

 

Jealousy. 

 

Possession.

 

Cas wanted to POSSESS him. In every sense of the word. And it had Dean’s eyes rolling into the back of his head because along with the feeling, he could hear Cas’ voice. His real voice. 

 

And it just kept saying one thing.

 

MINE.

 

Dean was his. He BELONGED to Castiel. And the second Dean realized that, the rumble coming from Cas died down to a more soothing level. His touch became softer- still possessive yes- but more gentle. 

 

A drag of the knuckles here.

 

A firm press of fingers there.

 

If Dean didn’t know any better, he would say Cas was giving him a massage.

 

“I rebuilt you atom by atom-” Nails ran down his back and he shivered. 

 

“-memory by memory. I know every nerve ending-” Cas scratched at the sensitive blades. He whimpered.

 

“-thought,” Cas rubbed the muscles of his back. He gasped.

 

“-feeling,” Cas touched the tips of the long feathers. He shuddered.

 

“-and touch you’ve ever had Dean Winchester.” The fingers traced his name and Dean moaned. There was too much feeling. Too much _Cas._ The grace inside him thrummed and Cas hummed in time with it. What once was healing him was doing funny things to him, tingling every nerve ending until Dean arched his back, unconsciously arching into the touch.

 

“Cas…” The hands rubbed down his back and he was sure that if his wings were real, Castiel would be soothing down the feathers. The thought had his mind reeling and for the first time since Cas had appeared, Dean looked up. Spots danced in his vision from the pressure he’d been applying to his face via pillow and he blinked. And strained his neck when he realized just HOW CLOSE the angel actually was. He was looking straight up. Light shone from behind Cas- it could’ve been the dude’s halo or just an appropriately place lamp- but he looked every bit the angel Dean knew him to be. His eyes glowed brighter with his use of grace and suddenly Dean felt very, very small.

 

Castiel thought he never looked more perfect with his bright green eyes, freckled cheeks, and flushed face.

 

“Cas…” And this time it was a prayer. This angel -this amazing heavenly being- had saved him. Yes from hell. But so many times after that. He became the rock that Dean needed in life. The one thing that would always be constant. His best friend.

 

“Do you know what it meant to keep this from me? To deny me what’s MINE?” The words were harsh and yet the touch was soft and honestly Dean’s mind was a cluster fuck right now. What the hell is he supposed to be saying to this? “Someone else had known a mark on your skin that I did not.” And Dean’s eyes widened. The jealousy made sense now. Cas was jealous that someone else had seen a part of Dean that he hadn’t. 

 

And if that didn’t make Dean shudder with want- that, if we’re being honest, he’s been denying himself for a long time now- then he didn’t know what would. A groan escaped his lips before he could stop it and he found himself leaning forward to nuzzle Cas’ thigh. He felt Cas’ fingers trace up his spine before carding through his hair, gripping the short hair and _fuck_ if that didn’t feel good. Dean hummed and nuzzled further into the muscular thigh, the black slacks catching on his lips as they parted for breath.

 

The air crackled with power around them.

 

Cas’ power.

 

And Dean felt himself getting drunk off the feel of it.

 

“But it’s _your_ mark Cas.” The answering growl was appreciative. Possessive. The hand tightened in his hair, borderline painful, while the other smoothed down his back over one of the long wings, grace crackling along his skin.

 

Dean moaned.

 

The change in Castiel’s position had Dean millimeters away from the angel’s cock and Dean swallowed- _hard._ Because fuck, Cas was _HARD._ Hard for _HIM._ Hard because Dean had _claimed_ himself as Cas’ by tattooing his name and wings onto his human body.

 

Jesus fucking Christ that’s hot.

 

He hungrily eyed the large bulge so close to his face before look back up at his angel. The blue eyes were glowing- a testament to just how close Castiel was to losing it. A dark, primal look had settled over the features that Dean had come to associate with his angel and it made his blood rush. Eyes locked, Dean leaned through that last bit of space, brushing his lips against the bulge. A whimper got caught in his throat as he nuzzled, trailing his lips down the impressive length before going back up, lower lip dragging against the rough fabric. Cas growled, lip curling and he swore Castiel’s canine teeth had lengthened.

 

Oh _fuck_ yes.

 

Fingers tightened to painful against his scalp and pressed him hard against Cas and Dean hummed, mouthing the clothed cock faster, his breath and spit dampening the cloth. The slacks tasted like fabric softener, which Dean had never been fond of but it didn’t stop him from running his tongue along the length to lay flat against where he knew the head was. His eyes never left Castiel’s, wanting to see every reaction.

 

And the blue eyes clouded over with lust that stared down at him with such _WANT_ made his newly healed body shiver with desire. His lips wrapped around the clothed tip, eyes closing in bliss as he sucked loudly at the tip. 

 

The loud groan that Castiel gave made Dean whine in response. With deft fingers Dean reached up, pulling at Castiel’s belt. 

 

Then button. 

 

Then zipper.

 

The only thing going through his mind was _more more want taste more!_

 

Strong fingers grabbed at his waist before tugging hard, pulling the pants and underwear at the same time because _fuck it_ Dean didn’t want to wait anymore.

 

Sam slamming open the room to the motel room obviously had something else in mind.

 

“SON OF A _BITCH_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it lovies? Do you hate me yet? :P
> 
> Gotta love lil Sammy right? Him and his perfect timing. I totally cackled evilly when I wrote that. I swear I did.
> 
> OH! And BTW if any of you care to know "Ar ol bariun" vaguely translates to "That I have" in Enochian. I found some weird website that translates. I'd really like to include more Enochian in the story but I don't want people to have to scroll down to the bottom to get the translation before scrolling back up. So if anyone has any ideas, please share!
> 
> Ah well. Til next time then! Rate and review n' all that jazz!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is going to kill Sam.
> 
> Sam is going to die.
> 
> Dean is going to kill him real good.
> 
> And then get a slice of pie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another update? so soon? OH MY GOOD GOLLY GOSH YES PLZ!

Dean is going to kill Sam.

 

Sam is going to die.

 

Dean is going to kill him real good.

 

And then get a slice of pie.

 

Who said this rhyming bullshit is hard? He hadn’t done it since Sammy was younger and lookie here- it came right back to him. Like riding a bicycle.

 

Except Dean never learned how to ride a bicycle.

 

He learned how to pick locks instead. 

 

Fuck.

 

Sighing, Dean focused on the road, signaling and changing lanes when need be. After the whole -well…episode that Sam walked in on, the brothers pretty much called radio silence. No talking to each other. No talking to Cas. 

 

Because that would require talking about what Sam had walked in on. 

 

And that’s just not the Winchester way.

 

So instead, with Dean healed, they checked out at the late time of 12:37AM. When they finally sat in the car, they realized Sam had been healed too. It took a moment of awkwardly sitting and staring at each other before realizing that NO, they did NOT want to think about when Cas had done that. So instead, they loaded in the car and drove away with no set destination in mind. That was a week ago today. Now they were on their way to bumfuck nowheresville Idaho, _basically freakin Canada_ , to hunt down a nest of possible vamps. And Dean was damn near climbing the walls. Because seriously, CANADA? _REALLY?_

 

...okay and maybe the fact that he was only saying the bare minimum to Sam was also getting to him.

 

But what the fuck was he supposed to say? Sorry you walked in on me about to give a blowjob to a freakin Angel of the freakin lord??? Yeah, because that is going to go over SO WELL. 

 

Please note the sarcasm.

 

...and yeah. Okay. Maybe not hearing from Castiel for a week might be getting to him too.

 

Maybe.

 

It might.

 

But if you point it out, he will deny it all.

 

But its WEIRD right? For a guy to keep saying you’re _his his his_ and then bolting for a week when Sammy walks in on them _almost_ doing stuff? Because it HURT damnit! Castiel shouldn’t be able to _say_ stuff like that and then just _leave!_

 

Dean sighed.

 

Sammy shifted uncomfortably.

 

Shifty eyes all around trying their damndest not to look at each other.

 

“There should be a motel up here on the left to stop for the night.” Okay, the sound of Sam’s voice should NOT have sent Dean flying a foot in the air and swerving into the other lane. But it did and now he’s embarrassed. Thankfully it’s late enough at night and it’s not that busy of a road. Grunting, he nodded and drove another mile before pulling in to the sad looking motel. Well...it’s better than nothing...right? Sam barely waited until the impala stopped moving before he was out, jogging up towards the office to purchase a room.

 

Or ROOMS as it were.

 

When Sammy handed him a key to his own room, Dean tried to smite him with his eyes. Oh yeah, it’s a new thing Sam is doing. Has been doing ever since the incident. 2 rooms. 1 bed in each.

 

Get the picture?

 

Maybe Sam didn’t want to walk in on some freaky interspecies sexy time.

 

Probably.

 

Maybe Sam thought he was helping.

 

Less likely. Dean is sticking with the sex theory.

 

And this isn’t helping. All it is doing is rubbing salt in the wound of _Cas not being here._

 

So, with a mighty glare of doom towards his brother, he stomped towards his room for another night of restless sleep. As he climbed into bed naked, he sighed. YES NAKED THANK YOU VERY MUCH! Not like he was expecting Castiel to show up. He was simply doing this because with separate rooms, he now had the freedom to be nude. The brothers already shared so much; being naked around each other was just unnecessary. And weird. ...but if Cas showed up, him already being naked would just be a bonus.

The last thing he did before going to sleep was curl into a ball, placing his hand fully against the warm handprint on his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay short and sweet, I KNOW. But I had to put SOMETHING!
> 
> Y'alls kudos and comments keep fueling my creative fire so keep it up please! Rate...review...send me money...whatever y'all want!


	7. He's Back!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had olive skin and his body was thin like a swimmer’s. He was a twink. 
> 
> His name was Josh. 
> 
> And Dean was interested. VERY interested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would've been up HOURS AGO had I not gotten in trouble for writing this instead of doing my job...  
> yeah...  
> DRUNK-DEAN IS BACK BITCHES!!!

Dean decides he _hates_ Idaho. 

 

Hates.

 

Like, he LOATHES this place.

 

More than werewolves and witches. More than Sam’s bitchface #32 (the one where he is trying to be all high and mighty but just looks constipated) and nasty rabbit food.

 

If he had to hear someone say “aye” one more time, he was going to lose it! And it will be cruel and bloody and body parts are going to be strung everywhere.

 

So maybe Dean was a _little_ high strung.

 

The vampire nest that they came here for ended up being a bust- just a bunch of twihards running around throwing glitter and fake blood on each other. But OF COURSE it can’t _just_ be a bust of a case. Oh no, there ALWAYS has to be a monster. Instead of a vamp nest, they find a fucking _okami!_ (Yeah because if Dean wasn't already having a hell of a time before, what he really needs now is some japaneses demon-thing.) Or really, it found them. In the middle of the forest. At night.

 

Sneaky fucker.

 

Well “luckily” since Dean was so high strung, he was able to kill the okami alone.

 

At night.

 

Without Sam’s help.

 

Yes you read that right.

 

And yeah, okay, _maybe_ Dean went A LITTLE overboard with the killing. _Maybe_ the okami only had to be stabbed 7 times. Not 20ish. And _maybe_ it didn’t need to be chopped into pieces. _Maybe. Possibly._

 

Dean blames Sam.

 

And Cas. 

 

Because fuck both of them.

 

Dean and Sam were talking now- _kinda._ What do I mean by ‘kinda’? Well, they’ve moved past simple grunting and ‘hey where should we eat’. So that’s something. But there’s still that wall of _let’s never bring up what happened in Texas ever again in the history of ever._

 

Dean really hated his life.

 

He watched with dispassionate eyes as they burned the...pieces...of okami. Now that the danger was gone, he had nothing left to distract him from his thoughts. Which really blows. He doesn’t like thinking about feelings n’ shit much anyway- and now it seems that is all he is able to do. So without further ado, his mind shifted back to his current problem:

 

Where in the FUCK was Castiel?!

 

Sam and he came to the silent agreement not to call the angel; yes. But that doesn’t mean the angel can’t come to HIM.

 

Them.

 

He meant them.

 

...Okay no he fucking didn’t, he meant HIM. Castiel was HIS angel and currently HIS angel was missing. Or avoiding him. Whatever. Point is, since that night 11 days ago (not like he was keeping track or anything... _he wasn’t_ ) Dean had wanted nothing more than to be back with Castiel. But no. That fucker flew away. His handprint tingled, a warm buzz flowing through him that had his anger calming slightly.

 

Oh yeah, that’s a new development too.

 

The handprint tingles now.

 

Yay.

 

As if he needed yet _another_ reminder that Castiel wasn’t here.

 

He was depressed. And lonely. And sad.

 

It was pitiful.

 

That night when they got back to the motel, Dean followed Sam into his room, determined to clean the weapons and make peace with his brother. It wasn’t until the guns were disassembled, long machete was thoroughly cleaned, and rock salt bullets were restocked did Dean finally sigh and look at Sam.

 

Who was staring back at him.

 

Lovely.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” The words seemed to catch Sam off guard and for a moment Dean felt some enjoyment at the uncomfortable look at Sam’s face. Seems like neither one of them want to talk about it.

 

“Not really. Do you?” Now it was Dean’s turn to look uncomfortable. God they were pathetic. Couldn’t even have one freakin conversation. Dean grunted, running his hands over his face. And he could _feel_ one of Sammy’s bitch faces being directed towards him. But he kept his face firmly in his hands. Maybe if he rubbed hard enough, he could scrub this mess from his mind? Probably not. It sounded too easy and _nothing_ was ever easy for the Winchesters. “Are you okay?” And this time he sighed, peaking at his brother through his fingers.

 

“M’fine Sammy.” It was the first time he’d called him that since Texas and it seemed to have worked- Sam relaxed. Okay yeah, he might have gone overboard on the okami. But it took away most of his anger and frustration. He could feel his hunter high staying strong, the after effects of all the adrenalin keeping his body alert and ready.

 

And he knew Sam felt the same.

 

Which meant only one thing.

 

“Bar time?” 

 

And they were off.

 

-

 

Sam and Dean didn’t know what to make of this place. It was louder than any home town bar they’d seen (and they have seen _a lot_ ) but he didn’t think it was big enough to be considered a “club”. Which was good because Dean hated clubs. Too many froo-froo drinks and girls making drunken mistakes. 

 

Not that Dean could judge.

 

But he wanted a _woman_ to make drunken mistakes with- not a girl.

 

Or so he thought.

 

Because really, all Dean could do tonight was stare at asses. Guy asses. Asses that belong to DUDES. Not that this is a startling revelation to Dean. Life on the road was difficult sometimes. There weren’t always pretty ladies with curves to satisfy him. But there always was guys. And he would’ve just been stupid to pass up the chances.

 

But the crazy stupid _want_ he felt for the male gender tonight shocked him. But he goes the Dean route and doesn’t question it- sharing his flirty side with both the males and females surrounding him. And the more drinks he downs, the more his flirty side comes out. Sam had wandered off sometime ago; finding his own piece of tail and sending a brief text about seeing him in the morning or whatever. Not like Dean was paying attention. Not when he had such entrancing company.

 

Shaggy red hair- obviously dyed because it was closer to maroon than normal hair was. Bright hazel eyes that looked more like yellow and green were fighting for dominance in his iris. He had olive skin and his body was thin like a swimmer’s. He was a twink. 

 

His name was Josh. 

 

And Dean was interested. VERY interested.

 

Or he thought he was interested. His body went through the motions- leaning forward, nipping at the guy’s chin playfully, running his hands down the guy’s flanks. And Josh was into it. Like, waaaaay into it. If the gasping and sexual innuendos and grabby hands are anything to go by. But even with alcohol and adrenalin and a vague echo of lust in his body, Dean can’t seem to fully get into it. 

 

And that makes drunk-Dean mad.

 

And we ALL know drunk-Dean does stupid things.

 

But its not until the man’s hand is sliding up from his wrist, dragging upwards along his arm and barely grazing the handprint beneath his customary two shirts that Dean pauses. 

 

The handprint is cold.

 

Josh mutters something close to his ear and then is laughing and Dean follows suit even though he has absolutely no idea what the guy had said. But he was a nice guy and chuckled anyway. Was the music always this loud? His could feel his body going fuzzy- a testament to exactly how much he’d had to drink. Josh makes a gesture towards the bartender, ordering another froo-froo for himself and a jack n’ coke for Dean. It was obvious that the bartender was debating on cutting them off if his suspicious eyes were anything to go by. Dean had ordered way more than Josh but the man looked as drunk as Dean felt. And Dean had been in the position time and time again so he _knew_ the younger man (or Dean thought he was younger. For all he remembered or cared, he could be the prince of Egypt and Dean wouldn’t've given a rats ass.) was trying to get him drunk.

 

And that made drunk-Dean frown.

 

He could do this without anymore liquor- _thank you very butt-fucking much!_

 

So with that thought in mind and a determined look in his eye, Dean leaned forward, snatching Josh’s lips with his own. He expected heat to be coiling in his lower belly. Or the familiar tingle running from the tip of his head to his toes that he usually got when he kissed one of his late night concurs.

 

He felt nothing.

 

If anything he felt cold.

 

Wrong.

 

He didn’t like it.

 

And when Josh’s lips parted, his eager tongue sweeping against Dean’s lower lip, he thought he might hurl. So he pulled away, immediately taking a swig of the strong drink and swishing around, trying to get the taste of _wrongness_ out of his mouth.

 

“No.” And Josh looks all butt hurt n’ shit and Dean couldn’t even pretend to give 2 fucks. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of twenty dollar bills. With a motion towards the bartender, he slapped a few down (probably more than enough to cover his and Josh’s...and even a more than decent tip because he was very generous with other people’s money) before he was stumbling towards the door. He ignored the bartender’s calls for a cab and Josh’s indignant shouts over the deep bass of the music.

 

The stumble back to the motel was a sad one. Drunk-Dean IS very prone to mood swings after all. And the fact that it took him twice as long to get back to the motel than it did to get to the bar made him upset.

 

Because he could deal with being upset at walking easier than he could at being upset at his limp dick.

 

Because honestly, Dean didn’t have erection problems. Sure some people have trouble ‘getting it up’ when they’re drunk. But Dean has never been one of them. If anything, because of his freakishly high tolerance, he manages to get them MORE while drunk. And going to bed with an easy lay had never bothered him in the past.

 

But Josh’s touch felt wrong.

 

And he didn’t even get a semi.

 

So now he was pissed and blaming it on the awkward, world-tilting walk back to his room.

 

Then he was blaming it on the key that was refusing to come out of his pocket.

 

Then it was the stupid lock’s fault for being so damn hard to open.

 

Then it was the door jam that so totally tripped him on purpose.

 

Then it was the blue eyed angel that had been on his mind since Texas that was glaring absolute death at him.

 

...WAIT, WHAT!?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, totally evil n' shit for doing a cliffhanger. I get some sick enjoyment out of it.  
> Next chapter has ...absolutely nothing done yet! I NEED KUDOS AND COMMENTS AND LOVES FOR ME TO START IT!!!
> 
> So...yeah. Me being needy. Rate n Review to let me know what y'all think.


	8. Please Touch Me There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is BACK BABY!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So its finally here! Sorry for the long wait? I made it longer in order to buy back your love!

First, Dean registered the cold of the wall against his flushed skin.

 

And THEN came the pain.

 

And then finally the subsonic growling that was making his bones quake and his insides shiver.

 

Cas was back.

 

And apparently pissed.

 

Lovely.

 

He groaned in pain as the angel pressed him further into the wall and Dean swore he heard the drywall start to crack. So much for getting their deposit back. Then Castiel is pushing harder, body flush with Dean’s and Dean lets out a whimper. 

 

“Hello Dean.” And _fuck_ , those two words should not turn him on but the do and _fuck_ Dean is supposed to be mad at Castiel right now- not horny! So he rolled his eyes, tried to focus his alcohol clouded gaze, and glared at Cas.

 

“Hey to you too.” Now despite being thrown into the wall, Dean was _still_ pretty drunk. So instead of it coming out all covered in venom and snippy...well it just sounded slurred. So it wasn’t nearly as intimidating as Dean would’ve liked.

 

But it seemed to piss of Castiel just fine.

 

So at least there’s that.

 

“Did you have fun tonight Dean? Hm? Did you have fun flirting around with anything that moved?” Vaguely Dean heard the drywall crumble where Castiel’s fingers were digging into the wall next to his head and that _really really_ shouldn’t be turning him on. Damn Castiel for being a walking sex being! Damn himself for not being able to ignore it!

 

Damn the whole fucking situation!

 

So Dean did the only thing he could do. 

 

He decided to piss Cas off more. 

 

“Oh yeah, it was _loads_ of fun.” And the sarcasm went right over his angel’s head if the fiery glare was anything to go by. So Dean decided to turn it up. “There were so many people Cas. All these sexy girls. They were nice. But the asses on the guys in this town? I bet I could bounce a quarter off of everyone of them.” The grace pressing down on him should’ve made Dean stop. Really it should’ve. Or at least falter. But it only seemed to fuel his fire. “And they were all so _attentive!_ Like no matter what I said, they hung off of every word.” The growling should’ve been the second sign that Dean was out of line. It really should’ve. But noooo he just kept on prattling on. It was like his mouth didn’t have an off switch! “And then there was Josh who I’m pretty sure would’ve humped me there in the bar had I let him. Such a pretty little thing. Doubt he would _leave-_ ”

 

And that's it.

 

That is totally it for Dean.

Because the next second there is a large cracking sound in the room, like a sonic boom had come out of nowhere. The two lights that were on in the room shattered. Thunder boomed loudly from the outside.

 

It wasn’t until the lightning struck outside did Dean see the two large black wings standing high and proud behind Castiel.

 

And now Dean felt fear.

 

And shame. 

 

And want.

 

And need.

 

And hunger.

 

Dean licked his lips. Castiel’s eyes _glowed_ in the dark room- showing his anger, fury, jealousy. His permanent bed-head hair seemed to blow in an unnatural breeze- oh, probably created by the _massive fucking wings._ And then Dean realized that Cas was not wearing his usual trench coat and black suit jacket.

 

Just the button down.

 

With the sleeves rolled up.

 

...well this just keeps getting more and more interesting.

 

“Is that so Dean? Well then maybe I should go get Josh for you since you seem to want him so much.” And yeah, if Dean was sober he would probably be worried about Josh right now. Because Cas had his smitey face on and that usually does not bode well for anyone. But all he can think about is how blue Castiel’s eyes are and how much he wants to touch him and taste him and Dean is all of 2 fucking seconds away from rubbing his body against Cas like a cat in heat.

 

He wants Castiel.

 

Bad.

 

He whimpered, _fucking whimpered,_ and arched his back pressing as close as he physically could to Cas. Because he’s not mad; he’s horny and desperate and Castiel keeps talking but all Dean feels is how the vibrations travel from Castiel’s chest to his and _fuck yes._

 

“No Josh.” Okay so it wasn’t his most coherent sentence. But Dean is drunk and horny and Cas is right here for the first time in 11 days (okay so maybe he WAS counting) and it was doing all kinds of stupid shit to his head. So without thinking much on it, Dean nuzzled his way under the chin of the very irate angel, pressing hot open mouthed kisses to what skin (and shirt) he could. And Cas’ skin was salty but cool and the fabric was starchy and hey- hey why was Cas pushing him back away from him?!

 

“You kissed him.” It was all but _growled_ at him and a whine threatened to tear out of Dean’s throat. Castiel wasn’t supposed to have seen that! Hell, Castiel wasn’t even supposed to be here! And Dean was supposed to be mad and upset and not whimpering like a fucking puppy because Cas was upset with him.

 

But Dean is drunk.

 

And Dean is a very stupid, very horny, very cuddly drunk. 

 

Who is tired of Cas being mad. And tired of Cas being gone. And is now apparently willing to _toss his fucking manliness out the goddamn window_ so his stupid angel would understand! So with a defiant glare, he shoved off the hand that was keeping his mouth from Castiel’s neck and nuzzled back into his spot, nipping roughly.

 

“Didn’t wanna kiss him Cas.” He nipped harder before lapping at the bite, humming at the taste. “Wanna kiss you.” He pepped the neck and jaw with kisses as if reinforcing his statement. And he felt his angel shudder, the sound of ruffling feathers filling the room. And that drew his eyes back to the _large fucking wings_ that were standing tall and proud behind Castiel. 

 

He wanted to _touch_.

 

“Wanna kiss and touch ALL of you.” So without another thought (and far less graceful than he intended), Dean sunk his hands into the wings, fingers clenching into the plumage.

 

Castiel growled.

 

Dean gasped.

 

They were so SOFT. Electricity shot up his arm as he carded through the long silky wings, the hair on his body standing on end. 

 

“Wow.” It was all he could say. The next second Castiel’s mouth was finally- _finally_ on his. And Dean’s eyes rolled into the back of his head because _fuck_ this is what he’s been craving! Those pale plush lips that had been haunting Dean’s thoughts were on his and they were so FUCKING PERFECT. Castiel’s tongue forced its way into Dean’s willing mouth, swiping over teeth and tongue and memorizing every nook and cranny. It was a rough kiss. A possessive kiss. A claiming kiss. And if Dean wasn’t being forced against the wall, he would’ve slid to the floor because his legs totally gave out. A whimper got caught in his throat as Cas bit his lip then soothed over it with his tongue. Suddenly those lips were gone- rubbing against the stubble on his cheek, the bolt of his jaw, down his neck that he tilted to the side willingly, leaving hot open kisses on every piece of skin he could.

 

And then Cas was biting him HARD at the juncture of his neck and shoulder; sucking harshly at the skin. 

 

And Dean sobbed with want because _fuck yes this felt heavenly._

 

“Oh God yes, Cas!” And it was a prayer. A prayer for _more yes want please!_ Dean’s bow legs wrapped around the angel’s waist, Cas supporting his weight easily and fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing ever then Dean doesn’t know what is. Strong hands moved from the wall to grab at Dean’s ass, squeezing harshly, punishingly, as Cas ground hard against him. Dean’s head hit the wall hard and he saw stars- he didn’t know if it was from the pain in his head or the pleasure running through his body but all he knew was that he _never ever_ wanted it to stop. 

 

“Is this what you want Dean? MY hands on you?” His voice is one step above gravel and it shakes Dean to his very core. Chapped lips mouth at his adam’s apple and a particularly hard thrust has it bobbing beneath those lips. And they chase it. And claim it. And Dean arches further into the touch. A broken whimper and gasp leave him, his head nodding in affirmative. 

 

But Cas doesn’t want a _nod._

 

With a growl he bites _hard_ , a bruise already forming, and tsks. “Words Dean. Use your words.” And Dean wants to cry and scream because Castiel is grinding against him so fucking perfectly and how DARE he try and make him talk right now! He could feel the hard line of the angel’s cock against his through both of their pants and the fact that they weren’t touching was driving his inebriated mind insane!

 

“Yes yes, YOU Angel, I want YOU!” And that seems to be enough for him because the next thing Dean registers is a soft fluffy mattress against his back. His BARE back. Damn his angel works fast. But Dean can’t seem to care about that right now because those perfectly chapped lips are on him again, tracing over his collarbone, leaving large red claiming marks everywhere. And Dean could only moan loudly, his fingers tangling into Cas’ hair. The first touch of a tongue against his nipple had him gasping. Then _writhing_ as lips closed around one, sucking, before moving on to the other. Every nip of his teeth sent grace scattering across Dean’s chest, soaking into his skin.

 

Felt so _good._

 

And suddenly Castiel’s mouth was _there_ , on his cock. 

 

And Dean _screamed._

 

Fingers clutched into black hair as Castiel tongued his slit before taking him all the way. His mouth was _hot_ and _wet_ and _glorious_ and Dean wanted to cry it felt so good. A desperate wail left his lips and he thrust up once, twice, then Cas was holding his hips down HARD. Blue eyes glared at him, looking all the more lethal in the dark. Another crack of lightning sounded and the room illuminated.

 

The sight of Castiel- Angel of the mother fucking lord- mouth around his swollen dick and wings high up behind him will forever be engraved into his mind.

 

His grip was firm and his mouth was so warm and Dean couldn’t stop the loud moans and cries that tore through his throat. This was perfect- oh so fucking perfect. He could feel himself hit the back of Castiel’s throat and he stuttered. Holy fuck Cas didn’t have a gag reflex.

 

“Fuck fuck fuck CAS!” His angel hummed at his name, bobbing faster. The first swipe of a lube covered finger at his entrance had Dean gasping. And then BEGGING. Plea after plea left his lips as Cas worked him open, stretching out his hole. One finger became two and then three almost too quickly. Hissing at the burn, he rocked back against the digits, because _fuck yes_! It was only his fingers, but the thought of _Castiel_ inside of him had Dean craving MORE. A fourth finger joined and it was all he could do not to come around them. He felt so stretched already but he needed it- needed Cas inside of him. And his angel knew it too. Letting go with an obscene pop, Cas smirked at the low whine Dean gave.

 

He was so needy.

 

“Please Cas. Need- I need-” _So very fucking needy._ And Cas wanted to give it all to him. Blue eyes gleamed wickedly in the dark as Castiel damn near folded him in half, spreading Dean’s knees wide and close to his chest. Grace danced along his skin and like a good boy he moaned loudly for his angel. Groaning, Cas rubbed himself against the exposed entrance, growling when the tip lightly caught on the rim. Green eyes stared up at him wanting, begging, needing more. Slowly, ever so slow, he pushed in.

 

“Oh my fuck yes, CAS!” The burn was immediate. But it was a good burn. Oh so good. Because this was Cas inside him. And this was the burn he’d been craving for years now. It took him a moment to bottom out- even with four fingers of prep he was too tight for Castiel’s length. And it made him _moan._

 

He felt so full.

 

So whole.

 

Slowly, so he wouldn’t hurt his hunter, Castiel began to move. And his eyes rolled back. Dean was so tight and warm and perfect around his cock. Low whines left his lips as he was fucked open, green eyes staring up at the ceiling as if unable to grasp that this was happening. But it was and it felt amazing to have his angel inside of him. Fucking him. Owning him. The thought of _belonging to Castiel_ has Dean moaning loud, arching up to meet every thrust given to him. 

 

“That’s it Dean, moan for me. Let me hear whose touch you crave.” All gentleness is gone as Castiel thrusts home, each snap of his hips pushing his cock in just the right way so Dean sees stars. Felt good. So so good. Dean’s pretty face was flushed red, making his freckles and pouty lips stand out. He looked so fucking gorgeous to Cas- and he belonged to him. 

 

Only him.

 

“I’m going to fill you up Dean. Mark you with my come. Make sure you know you’re mine.” And he wants it. _God knows he wants it._ And all Dean can do it whine out a desperate yes, tossing his head back. His hands card through the black wings, body filled with grace, fingers twisting hard into the plumage. 

 

“Say my name Dean.” His thrusts became less controlled and more erratic as he pounded into Dean- he was so, so close. Dean babbled, hands pulling hard on the wings to press himself closer to his angel. Incoherent babbles left his mouth as he whined, grinding back. Nails pierced his hips as Castiel’s grip tightened to painful. 

 

Say it, Say it, say it, he needed to hear it!

 

“Say - _c en elo_ \- fucking SAY IT DEAN.” One last thrust had Dean screaming his name as he comes untouched between them. His hole clenched tightly and Cas saw white, snarling as he fucked through his own orgasm. Teeth sunk into Dean’s shoulder and light filled the room. Cries spilled from Dean’s lips as his over sensitized body was assaulted, the feeling of Cas coming inside of him, biting him, filling him up with grace and come, sent him over the edge again.

 

Time was suspended as they laid there as the light died out; the only sound in the room was their harsh breathing. Each lap of his tongue against the oozing bite had Dean whimpering, his body too over stimulated to do much else. Gently Cas pulled out being sure to nestle tightly beside his hunter. Their lips met lazily, gentle nips soothed over with small licks and Dean sighed. 

 

His brain was mush, his body was barely any better, but this was…

 

He was so…

 

“My Angel.” It slipped out before he could even try and filter it. He was more drunk off of endorphins than liquor at this point but he didn’t care. Because this was Cas and he belonged to Cas and Cas belonged to him. As if sensing his thoughts his angel chuckled, the deep sound rumbling making him sigh in contentment.

 

“My hunter.”

 

Dean fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo what do you think? I'm not really sure why it took me so long to crank this out. I could spew on and on about personal drama and work but really that's not true- I really wanted this chapter to be done right.
> 
> I dunno. Maybe I'm being weird about it. 
> 
> Soooooooooooo rate and review. Let me know what y'all think.


	9. The Second Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “JESUS MOTHER FUCKING CHRIST!” So let me tell you now, hitting the unforgiving motel carpet full frontal, after having some pretty hardcore anal for the first time, is NOT fun. Like...at all.
> 
> It’s pretty fucking painful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! YAAAAY.

The morning after was supposed to be awkward right? A fumbling mess of confusing feelings and the unknown of where you stood with the person? Or really in Dean’s past, the morning after was spent stealthily ninja-ing his way out the window from a one night stand he accidentally fell asleep (passed out from the alcohols) at.

 

This? 

 

This wasn’t any of that.

 

In fact...it was straight out of a chick flick. The sun rose slowly that morning, casting the room into a warm glow. Instead of waking in a panic, Dean woke slowly, clutching to the last of his dreams stubbornly. He was surrounded by warmth. He felt protected. And god damnit, it felt like _home._

 

It was so freaking perfect to wake up with Cas spooning him.

 

So perfect that he didn’t even care that he was the little spoon.

 

He lazily stretched from his spoon position, bending forward to arch his back and press his bare ass back against Cas. Who was _very_ happy to see him in the morning if the small thrust towards him was any indication. The feeling of that hard cock pressed against his -probably still stretched- hole sent a shiver through Dean’s body. He could probably fuck himself back on it…

 

But then something caught his eye.

 

See, Dean knew he drank a lot last night. Not enough to go out and get a tattoo and then magically forget all about it- but that guy...John? Jacob? Had made sure Dean had got PLENTY to drink. But Cas sobered him up when he slammed him against the wall. And then fucked him through the mattress. But there was one thing that Dean really didn’t fully 100% register last night. 

 

It was big...and black...and covered in feathers…

 

And draped over his legs.

 

Dean stared at it.

 

The wing twitched.

 

_“JESUS MOTHER FUCKING CHRIST!”_ So let me tell you now, hitting the unforgiving motel carpet full frontal, after having some pretty hardcore anal for the first time, is NOT fun. Like...at all.

 

It’s pretty fucking painful.

 

A hiss left his lips as he crawled backwards from the bed where a very amused angel sat. Castiel was adorable- _as always._ The dude should win a freakin' award for it. His perpetual bedhead was even more thoroughly fucked out than usual, meaning it stood out everywhere like he got electrocuted. He had scratches and hickies all over his chest which made Dean puff out with pride because those are HIS marks. And, oh yeah.

 

TWO MASSIVE FUCKING BLACK WINGS.

 

He shouldn’t be freaking out like this. He touched them last night. Fondled and pulled them really. He could even see the places where he had grabbed because the feathers were all messed up.

 

But seeing them in the dark...clutching them while drunk...that was one thing. It was a whole other thing to see them in the light of day. 

 

“You know, you really should stop with the blasphemy.” His blue eyes fucking TWINKLED in the sunlight and Dean swears he has stepped into a chick flick. Green eyes went back and forth between blue eyes and black wings. 

 

Back and forth. 

 

Back and fucking forth.

 

The wings twitch again.

 

Dean yelped.

 

And Castiel _laughed._ Like a full-bodied, gut clenching laugh. It was fucking beautiful. And a second later Dean joined in the laughter because _what the hell was he doing_? This was CAS! _His angel!_ Wings and all. With that thought in mind, Dean climbed back up on the bed until he was straddling his angel. God he would never get tired of saying that. With a bright smile they kissed and Dean freakin melted.

 

“Good morning Angel.” The goofy fucking smiles were still on their faces and no matter what Dean tried to do, he couldn’t get rid of it. He didn’t want to get rid of it.

 

“Good morning Dean.” Another chaste kiss followed before Dean finally turned his attention to the wings. 

 

They were beautiful.

 

A deep black that shined like a freshly waxed impala. They would twitch and move on their own- proof that they were a part of Cas. But with each twitch, the light shone on different sections and the colors would change. Blues, purples, reds...it stopped being black and more of an oil varnish. Which, of course, Dean loved more than he would ever admit. Because they were the color of motor oil and his car and if that isn’t just absolutely fucking perfect for him then perfection doesn’t exist. With a shaky breath and careful fingers he ran his hand across the top of the wing. A low hum was Castiel’s only response.

 

The wings were so _soft._

 

Like the finest silk.

 

But they were also strong.

 

Like liquid metal.

 

Seeing as the first touch went over okay, he trailed his hands over again, fingers dipping in between feathers. They slid through his fingers so easily and they felt so delicate that he was afraid that too strong of a touch would break them. He went over each and every quill that he could reach, base to tip, stroking and rearranging the ones that had been misplaced by him that night. Grace still traveled up his arms with every touch. But instead of shocking him like before, it buzzed and warmed in his body, as if recognizing him. It made Dean sigh in pleasure- having such an intimate part of his angel recognize him.

 

As for Castiel?

 

Well, he is a pile of goo at this point.

 

He had managed to move them enough so that he was leaning back against the wall behind the head of the bed. This gave Dean ample room to look over his wings. And something sturdy enough to lean against when Dean’s touch turned him to goo. Something he honestly did not expect.

 

Having Dean molest his wings in the middle of sex was one thing.

 

But Dean _grooming_ him?

 

It was a whole other level of intimacy between mates.

 

And that thought alone had a possessive rumble running through Castiel’s chest because Dean is HIS now. He always has been. And always will be. But now they’re mated. And he could touch and kiss and (yes) _stare_ at his hunter all he wants. And there wasn’t a damn thing Dean could do about it. So with that thought in mind, and his mate thoroughly enraptured with his wings, Castiel leaned forward to show Dean just _how much_ he loved his mate’s touch. While Dean was busy entertaining himself with one of his flight feathers (as if _that_ didn’t get Castiel all tingly), Cas leaned forward and nuzzled his way under Dean’s jaw. And licked happily at the still fresh bite mark at the juncture of Dean’s neck and shoulder.

 

Dean saw white.

 

The grace that had been twirling around his fingers, dancing across his arms and chest, that sunk through the skin over his heart suddenly came _alive_. In a moment the air around them grew warm and Dean felt more than heard Castiel’s growl.

 

“My mate.” The term was not foreign to Dean, but having it directed at him was. And it made him blink.

 

See, Dean has been called many things in his life. 

 

Nice things like son, brother, friend, or lover.

 

Okay things like acquaintance, agent, fighter, or soldier.

 

Hell, even some terrible things like damaged goods, broken man, asshole, or freak.

 

Never MATE.

 

He wasn’t a complete idiot- he knew what it meant. What it meant for _Castiel_ to call him that. And it made him freeze. The bite made sense now. How Cas was acting made perfect sense. But...how does he act? Its not as if Dean can mark Cas back.

 

...And shouldn’t he be freaking out AT ALL about all of this??

 

And he does. For all of a brief second. Until his eyes catch those too-true-to-be-real blues and his panic melts away. Because fuck it, he knew what he was getting into when he said yes to Cas.

 

There was no backing out now.

 

He didn’t _want_ to back out now.

 

“My mate.” He mimicked Castiel’s words. And he’d never seen Cas smile so bright. He could get used to saying the right thing if that bright ass smile was his reward. His angel nipped his way up and down his neck making Dean sigh happily. His fingers moved through the feathers once more and he listened to every pleased sound that Cas released.

 

Honestly Dean was waiting for the guy to start _purring._ And if he did, Dean was TOTALLY never going to let him live it down.

 

“You were right, ya know.” Between the petting of his wings and the sweet thumping of Dean’s heartbeat, Castiel had been lulled into a very relaxed state. And therefore could only grunt in reply. 

 

Which Dean totally thought was adorable.

 

His adorable angel.

 

“My wings. They’re really similar to yours. Just, ya know, no color.” And he was right. For the most part anyway. I mean, the wings were done anatomically correct- just on a much smaller scale. And the feathers themselves looked a lot like Castiel’s because they sure as hell didn’t look like any bird feathers Dean had ever seen. His angel just hummed, lapping lazily against his mark which made Dean tingle all over.

 

He really needed to figure out a way to give Cas one…

 

“I’ve been meaning to ask about that.” His voice was deeper than normal, the tone reaching deeper levels than humanly possible. And Dean knew that was because Castiel’s form- _his true form_ \- was closer to the surface. With a smile, he twirled a long feather in between his thumb and pointer finger. He wondered how strong these things were.

 

“Ask about what, angel?” The nickname rolled off his tongue easily. And he really couldn’t bring himself to care. Hell, he called him it in the middle of hot passionate quasi-angry sex and Cas hadn’t cared then. And if by the happy...was that a fucking chirp? Sound Cas made, he sure as hell didn’t care now.

 

“Where did you get the tattoo? It is very accurate. And you hadn’t seen my wings before last night.” A blush dusted across his cheeks. Honestly he STILL didn’t remember that night. He remembered Sam and him going to a bar and then the next thing he remembered was waking up hung over as fuck. 

 

“I guess just this random parlor?” With his use of the word guess, it wasn’t hard for Cas to realize Dean didn’t remember. And he shot an evil eye at his hunter for that. Dean merely smiled, embarrassed, and twisted his fingers deeper into the plumage. “Maybe he just got a lot of requests for angel wings? They’re kinda common you know.” Okay maybe not horribly common. But Dean had seen enough pictures online when they first started learning Enochian to see that people had them. Apparently look up anything biblical online anymore and you’ll get tattoos on the images tab. Thanks google. 

 

Cas frowned.

 

Then pulled away.

 

And had anyone else been in the room, Dean would have been embarrassed by the low whine that escaped his lips. But it was just Castiel and he was not ashamed to let his angel know just how much he wants to be close to him. Well closer than he already is- naked and straddling his mate.

 

Really, Dean is waiting for the panicking to set in about how _inhuman_ that term is. But he can’t really care to panic. If that makes sense.

 

“No Dean, each angel’s wings are different.” An acknowledging grunt was Dean’s reply. “ _Unique._ ” Unique. Hm. Dean liked that word better. He ran the tips of his fingers down the inside of the wings, to the soft down close to Castiel’s body. And his angel groaned. Encouraged, he applied more force, nails digging into the sensitive feathers to the muscle underneath. Cas growled, rutting upwards and Dean felt his hard cock slide between his cheeks. And he _wanted_ it. He rocked down against it, feeling slide against his still slick opening. Fuck Cas felt so good against him. Dean licked his way across a pale clavicle before sucking harshly, leaving another violent bruise on Cas’ chest.

 

“So no one can mistake that these are _your wings_ on me?” His growl turned subsonic again and Dean could feel his bones shake. 

 

He knew he was poking at Castiel’s control and he _loved it._

 

“I just wish I knew who to thank for putting it on me.” He rose up a little, angling his hips so the tip of that gorgeous cock lined up perfectly at his entrance.

 

“Well Dean-o that would be me.” 

 

Dean swore he had a stroke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOO I was definitely able to crank this one out a lot faster. Since the last chapter didn't seem to get too many people interested, hopefully this one did it for y'all.
> 
> Rate n' Review plz.


	10. I Was Hoping This Would Be A Happy Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was hot. So fucking hot. Dean was about ready to ride his mate until they both collapsed in exhaustion. Until Gabriel, the sneaky un-dead archangel, cock-blocked him six ways to Sunday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Chapter folks!

So let us just get this straight now. Or...at least, as straight as we can.

 

Dean is not ashamed of being bisexual.

 

He really isn’t.

 

Well...not anymore anyway. There used to be this stigma he had when his dad was alive but… shit changes. And you can blame it on any number of things. Facing horrifying situations, watching family and friends die, or hell, even dying multiple times himself. He really needed to figure out how many times he _has_ died. That shit bugged him. After ALL OF THAT happened, panicking over if you like something in your butt or not really falls to the bottom of the “Should I Give A Shit” list.

 

But still, there are limits that Dean has.

 

It has nothing to with shame. Even though he has very _very_ little shame.

 

It’s more about comfort.

 

And Gabriel (who isn’t dead by the way. YES WE ARE SHOCKED TOO), popping in on him about to take it up the ass? 

 

Yeah Dean isn’t comfortable with that.

 

Confused? Well let me run it back for you.

 

It was hot. So fucking hot. Dean was about ready to ride his mate until they both collapsed in exhaustion. Until Gabriel, the sneaky un-dead archangel, cock-blocked him six ways to Sunday. He saw EVERYTHING. Which, again, Dean has very little shame and he knows he has a rockin bod so he isn’t too caught up in that. But Gabriel saw Cas naked. 

 

And that brought out Dean’s little green monster.

 

But Cas? Oh god, his green monster was HUGE.

 

Either Castiel is _really_ possessive (which, again _really_ , after how Castiel reacted to some bar flirting? Hella possessive) or no one is supposed to interrupt angel mating. Especially other angels. Because all Dean did was blink before Gabriel was shoved face first into the wall by what Dean now knows as Castiel’s grace. And as if doing _that_ wasn’t enough, Castiel then proceeded to wrap his wings around Dean- effectively hiding both of their naked forms from view- and then growled at Gabriel.

 

Like... _growl_ growled.

 

With his real voice.

 

Dean supposed the motel didn’t need the (now exploded) tv or the (now in pieces) alarm clock. Thankfully the windows stayed or else that would’ve drawn way too much attention.

 

But all Gabriel did was LAUGH.

 

Crazyass mother fucker.

 

He then told them that he’d be with Sam and poofed away.

 

…

 

So that had been Dean’s morning so far. As of now, they were all piled into Sam’s motel room, clothed, and awkwardly staring at each other. Really, the only good thing of the morning was Sam’s reaction to Gabriel being alive. He only wishes he was Samsquach’s face when the archangel poofed into view.

 

“Soo let me get this straight.” Heh, again with the straight joke. But all focus was back on Sammy. “You two had sex.” Sidelong glance and...yeah Dean and Castiel nodded. Sam looked less freaked out about that then Dean would have thought. “And you...aren’t dead?” Okay, the Gabriel thing he looked more freaked out about. But the archangel simply nodded, sucking on his randomass sucker. 

 

Dean totally wanted one.

 

“And you’re the one that gave Dean the tattoo.” Another nod from Gabriel.

 

“Damn straight I am. SOME ONE had to get the ball rolling with these two.” Dean glared.

 

Rude.

 

The ball would have totally rolled on its own.

 

...Eventually.

 

“Well that explains how he got a tattoo that should’ve taken multiple visits all in one night.” Thank you Sam, for pointing that out. And that actually made sense.

 

“And how, when drunk, some asshat managed to tattoo me.” _That_ got him a flat look from everyone in the room. It made Dean blush.

 

What? 

 

It was BUGGING HIM! 

 

“Well it _IS_ illegal.” He was not pouting. He totally wasn’t. ...But maybe Castiel pulling him into his lap made him stop not-pouting.

 

“And now you two are...mates?” Sam looked like the word physically left a weird taste in his mouth. Not necessarily a bad one...but one he couldn't figure out. Like vaca frita. Good but bad. Savory yet sour. Oily and...okay he was going to stop now.

 

“Yes?” His hesitant answer made Sam face palm. And Gabriel look exasperated. And all Castiel did was chuckle.

 

Ass. 

 

“Dean and I are fully mated. My grace and his soul are bound now.” Wait a second… give him a moment… _OHHHH THE LIGHT!_ Dean totally knew what Castiel was talking about. They were bonded. Mated. 

 

Sam continued to stare at his brother.

 

It didn’t matter what species you contribute that word to, it meant for life. Dean knows that.

 

But.

 

Dean doesn’t do commitment. Like, at all.

 

And Sam was waiting for his brother to freak out. Spazz. Scream.

 

But when Castiel nuzzled against the back of Dean’s neck and all his brother did was smile… well… Sam could only smile at them.

 

They were adorable.

 

\----

 

Later that night when the two were back in Dean’s room, lounging naked and sated for the moment, Dean rolled over to face his mate. His fingers immediately made themselves busy by stroking the wings curled around him.

 

He would never get over how soft they were.

 

He would never get tired of touching, feeling, kissing, tasting them. He loved those wings.

 

…

 

Oh

 

“ _SHIT_.” His -probably to Cas- random outburst seemed to startle the dozing angel. Blue eyes blinked quickly, shaking off whatever daze he had been in, and darted around the room. What the hell had happened? Was someone attacking? Castiel pulled away and sat up, looking and searching for the point of Dean’s distress.

 

Until Dean yanked _hard_ on his wing to pull him back down on the bed.

 

What??

 

“Oh my god, I forgot to tell you!” The shock and panic in his voice had Castiel on edge. What was so important? Was Dean injured? No, he would have known. Hell, he would have seen an injury by now!

 

“What is it Dean?” He didn’t even bother to keep the worry from his voice. But his hunter simply grabbed his head, tangling his rough fingers into Castiel’s hair, and kissed him.

 

KISSED HIM.

 

Not that Castiel was complaining.

 

With a low groan he rolled them, licking his way into his hunter’s mouth. The taste of mint, mouthwash, and _Dean_ exploded on his tongue and the angel couldn’t get enough. He would never get enough. He pulled away with a wet ‘pop’. And immediately bit Dean’s lip. His hunter whimpered beneath him, wrapping his legs around his waist and thrusting up immediately. 

 

Castiel was already hard and aching but he knew Dean was still recouping from earlier. And while he wouldn’t push his hunter to mate with him again _just yet_ , it didn’t mean they couldn’t do other things. 

 

But Dean was going to tell him something.

 

So with a sigh, he pulled away. The sight of a flushed, panting, wanting and eager Dean would never get old to him.

 

“You had something to tell me?” Dean shivered at the low baritone- made even lower with arousal. Seriously, if Dean wasn’t super fucking possessive and willing to kill anything that even _looked_ at Castiel, he would be pushing the angel to do phone sex. 

 

But no one is going to have sex with Castiel but him.

 

And phone sex is included in that _thank you very fucking much._

 

Dean blinked, allowing his possessive thoughts to slip away to look up at his angel. 

 

“Oh yeah…” Well he didn’t sound panicked anymore, so Castiel stopped worrying. Bringing his face closer to his angel’s, he began to pepper the strong jaw with light kisses and nips. He kissed his stubble, nose, cheekbones, eyes, forehead, and finally the lips.

 

Castiel smiled at him, adoration obvious in his gaze.

 

“I love you, Angel.”

 

Castiel smiled wider, claiming Dean’s lips with his own. The kiss was passionate; both of them spilling all their feelings into it. And when they pulled away, both had bright smiles on their faces.

 

“I love you too, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the ending was totally cheesy. But I found it adorable dammit! Honestly I thought I would put more sex into this thing but...meh. That's what one shots are for.
> 
> Or maybe I'll make this a verse??
> 
> Ooooooo that is totally a smart idea. But it will have to wait. I know a few of you have already started reading my other story Jimmy Is Still Here and that one is kinda consuming me at this point.
> 
> I hope you all really enjoyed this story. It was so much fun to write. And, honestly, it is the first story of mine that I've ever truly finished. I hate endings. I hate finishing things. But this one came together so perfectly, how could I not?
> 
> Please Rate n' Review.
> 
> And I'll see you lovelies in another story!


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